Page 64 of Dream Girl Drama

Everyone shuffled to stand at once.

But the entire team simultaneously froze as Reese approached Sig. “Mr. Gauthier.” She tipped her head in the direction of the exit—the one that led to the executive offices. “Might I have a word?”

SIG SAT DOWNin front of the white designer desk, numb straight to his fingertips.

Months of wondering where he stood with the team, praying they would offer him a worthwhile contract, came down to this moment. He could feel it. This woman didn’t call people into her office unless she had something important to say.

His fate hung in the balance. As a Bearcat. Maybe as a hockeyplayer. As the man who dreamed of providing for Chloe for the rest of his natural life. Longer, even.

Reese sat down in front of a picture window, Boston lit up behind her.

She folded her hands on the desk.

“Let’s get right to it, Mr. Gauthier—”

“Sig.”

She nodded hesitantly, as if not sure she wanted to be quite so casual. “Sig.” She tapped a finger against her knuckle. “I won’t beat around the bush. You’re the best wing in the league. Your speed is unmatched. It goes unnoticed sometimes how many opportunities you create for other players to score, but it doesn’t go unnoticed by me.”

Unexpectantly winded, Sig coughed into his fist. “I thought you weren’t going to beat around the bush.”

Amusement briefly crossed her face. “Thank you is the response you’re looking for.”

“I’m not sure if I’m thanking you yet.” Sig looked her dead in the eye. “Are you going to trade me or give me a better contract?”

The fact that she appeared to be conflicted did nothing to settle his stomach. “I’m sure you can appreciate my position. I’m new. I’m going to be under the microscope. And let’s be honest, everyone will want me to fail, whether they say it out loud or not. Because of that, I have to be an exceptional general manager. I’m either the best or I’ll be considered the worst.”

“I hear you. I’m just not sure what this has to do with me.”

“It was my intention to elevate you to captain and pay you the kind of eight-figure salary you deserve. That’s what Iwantto do, because it’s the best move for the team. And while I’m under a microscope...” She paused. “I’m not sure that’s whereyouwant to be.”

Sig’s blood rapidly started to drop in temperature.

His conversation with Burgess in the smoothie shop earlier that day came back to him in snippets.What’s the story with you and Chloe? Just get it out in the open so we can figure out how to keep it from biting you in the ass.

He’d blown off his friend’s concern. Was it being proven valid? Already?

“I’m sorry,” Sig managed. “I’m not sure what you mean.”

One of Reese’s eyebrows ticked up. She didn’t appreciate him playing dumb, but he didn’t know what else to do. Not until he heard the extent of the problem.

“There has been a lot of chatter on the Bearcats message boards about the girl in the pink Gauthier jersey. She’s in the front row at every game, sits with the fiancée of Burgess Abraham, so naturally fans are making assumptions that Pink Jersey isyourgirlfriend, since your name is on her back.” He remained stone-faced, but his pulse was going a thousand miles an hour. Message boards? What the fuck? “Obviously, we had to do our due diligence on this. It was easy to find out her name, because the tickets have been left at the box office under Chloe Clifford every week since the start of the season. She’s your stepsister.”

“Not yet,” he managed. “Not for two months.”

“Forgive me, Sig, but I don’t think people are going to make that distinction. Furthermore, they don’t want to.” He read the hint of sympathy on her face, but he didn’t care for it. Didn’t want to see it or acknowledge it. Sympathy wasn’t called for. He hadn’t lost Chloe. Hadn’t ruined her. Not yet. “And after the article that came out this afternoon in theGlobe’s late edition, I can only imagine how the gossip is going to proliferate. Because it doesn’t appear to be gossip. Does it?”

Sig could barely hear Reese over the pounding in his skull. “What article?”

Reese didn’t move right away, but when she did, she opened the laptop in front of her, tapped a few keys, and turned the device around.

The pictures drew his attention first. Him and Chloe walking Pierre that morning, before sunrise. Shoulder to shoulder, smiling at each other, like they were the only two people in the world, his hand resting on the small of her back. Beside that snapshot, there was another one of Chloe at a recent game, her palms pressed to the glass as he skated by.

The headline reached out and sucker punched him—“Stepsister Goes Above and Beyond?”—and... Christ, he couldn’t read anymore. Not without getting sick.

“Right now, it’s only a small clipping in the entertainment section, but I don’t anticipate the story remaining quiet for long. Not after your agent demanded they remove your name as one of Boston’s more eligible bachelors... and now? This secret relationship appears to be why. The chatter only gets worse if we name you as the next captain.”

This was his future being discussed. Eight figures. The captainship of an NHL franchise.

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